<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Soulmates and Sacrifices by dhyanshiva</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23460940">Soulmates and Sacrifices</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhyanshiva/pseuds/dhyanshiva'>dhyanshiva</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Character Contemplations [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Fluff, Homophobia, Internal Monologue, M/M, Songfic, poem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:40:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23460940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhyanshiva/pseuds/dhyanshiva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only when the temple came into view that he let himself relax. This was his refuge, a place where he could finally let his guard down.</p><p>Or the scene between the beating Kartik takes (and Aman's running away) and the couple's argument about Aman going ahead with the marriage and Kartik refusing to leave. This is a look into Aman's thoughts and emotions when he's at the temple.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Character Contemplations [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prayers and Promises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my tribute to the indisputably GOD TIER chant of 'Main Tera' from Kalank's title track. There's a little something of my own at the end too :)<br/>As I've said before, do leave a comment and/ or kudos to let me know what you thought of the piece.</p><p>Much love,<br/>Dhyan x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aman hadn’t gotten a second’s sleep, Kartik’s yells of pain ringing in his ears, haunting him. His cheeks were still damp, the tears had stopped a few minutes ago and only because there were none left to cry. Aman Tripathi was well and truly spent. Limbs heavy and with his mind begging him not to do this, he pushed himself to get out of bed. With only the light of his bedside lamp to help him discern his surroundings, Aman got dressed. At this hour, the house was eerily silent, and he hurried through the process, eager to leave before anyone could entrap him and demand he complete an utterly redundant task. Waves of shame threatened to pull him under as he picked up the sherwani by the collar. Aman couldn’t bear to look himself in the eye as he pulled it on and adjusted the sleeves, fiddling with the seams listlessly.</p>
<p>Though he knew it wasn’t real, it felt like the high collar was choking him. Aman knew he’d signed his death warrant last night, what with the stupid but necessary ‘agreement’ he’d signed with his parents. Yet, come morning, it had become reality and now, this clothing felt like an abrasive rope being put around his neck, a noose like no other. Looping the dupatta around his neck and flinging it over one shoulder, Aman stepped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Keeping his tread light, he made his way out of the house and it was only when the temple came into view that he let himself relax. This was his refuge, a place where he could finally let his guard down, away from the judgement and disgust so evident in his father’s eyes, the pity in his mother’s. The disappointment he saw in himself every time he looked in the mirror.</p>
<p>When Aman shut his eyes, hands clasped, kneeling before the deity, he knew what to expect. He saw Kartik, his gaze the only one that wasn’t filled with contempt. And it both uplifted and destroyed Aman because he knew that no matter what he did, this would be unchanging. Even after all the pain that he had experienced, inadvertently due to Aman himself, Kartik’s gaze was filled with love and adoration. The ache in his chest worsened at this vision. He knew that he’d see this when he opened his eyes and met Kartik’s gaze (did he dare to, though?) It was Aman, once more, who’d fallen short and it was Kartik who continued onward, fighting for them both. It was only when he felt tears seep past his eyelashes and trail down his face that Aman opened his eyes once more, struggling to focus on the form of the shivling. He waited for his vision to clear and scrubbed away the tears though he knew it was redundant. It was like a tsunami, his sorrow, coming in waves, pulling him under.</p>
<p>In this solitude, he let himself break. After all, there was no hiding anything from the omnipresent being, was there? Nothing could be concealed and so, Aman finally let the dam break and all that was unsaid came rushing forth. The words he longed to say tumbled out between choked sobs and mirthless laughter. Yes, this farce of a marriage was to happen, be legitimised by God’s blessings but really, what use was it? In this faith, it’s explicitly written that a marriage is the binding of two souls. How would this ‘binding’ to another ever make sense when Aman’s soul was wholly entwined with Kartik’s? Above all the prayers and chants of the pandit would be this. Till his dying breath, Aman would chant ‘main tera’. He couldn’t deny the truth, after all. Aman was Kartik’s. There was nothing that could change this.</p>
<p>Sitting back against the pillar, sturdier than he felt on his own two feet, he kept his eyes fixed on the lines of ash smeared across the face of the stone, those 3 even lines, and blocked out the rest of the world. He needed this time to revel in his memories of their time together before they’d force him to lock them away in some far corner of his mind. His time with Kartik back at home in Delhi seemed like a lifetime away and Aman took himself there once more, if only to feel sheltered, for now.</p>
<p>He remembered them curled up under the blankets, winding down for the night and Aman tracing the intricate pattern of the glorious tattoo on Kartik’s forearm. It never failed to amaze him, the beauty of the design, the power in its symbolism. Somehow, even just touching the tattoo sent waves of power flowing through his veins. It made him feel secure, invincible and loved.</p>
<p>
  <em>Main gehra tamas tu sunhera savera</em>
</p>
<p>For Aman, there was only one word to describe Kartik: light. From their very first meeting, he’d seen it, the light that seemed to shine from within. It was what drew Aman to him in the first place. Wherever Kartik was, there was light that banished the lingering shadows. His beautiful smile, resounding laughter would turn Aman’s fears and woes to dust, instantly. He pulled Aman away from the dark recesses of his mind and for that, he was eternally thankful. There were countless days when he returned home, weary and defeated. Kartik had the knack of reading his body language, his silences in a way no one else did. Aman feels a smile form on his lips as recalls the way Kartik would envelop him in a warm hug, without a second thought. The way he’d fill a thermos of coffee, lace their hands together and how they’d sit on the building’s terrace till dawn. They’d talk about everything in the company of the moon and stars. Or they’d be silent, Aman resting his weight against Kartik, the latter’s nimble fingers would trace patterns over his back, soothing and comforting. They’d be there overnight and each time, Kartik would be mesmerised by the rising of the sun. And each time this happened, Aman would forget the world and let himself admire this beautiful man, the way the rays illuminated Kartik Singh, the oranges, reds and yellows making him look angelic. Light would catch on his nose ring, the glint reflected in those bright eyes. Yes, Aman had decided early on that Kartik was infinitely more beautiful than he could ever hope to be. For the sun could find a way to shine even through a cloudy sky but the moon only lasted so long before it disappeared from the sky altogether. It was in that relentless pursuit, Kartik’s determination to spread light that Aman saw beauty. For he was the glorious sunrise to Aman’s dark night, the period after the sun had set. The moon too relies on the sun to shine and here, he sourced his strength from Kartik. Even today, his soulmate was forging on, undeterred. He’d stood up for them both, time and again but Aman..</p>
<p>
  <em>Musaafir main bhatka, tu mera basera </em>
</p>
<p>If you ask him what ‘home’ meant to Aman, he’d say Kartik in a heartbeat. With him, Aman felt like he belonged, he felt seen, cherished. Kartik understood him in ways that no one else did, sometimes better than Aman himself. There were days when he felt utterly lost and directionless. He never felt scrutinised by Kartik and so, told him everything, how weightless he felt and in response, the man would pull him into a comforting embrace and ground him once more. --Aman could hear his voice now, from one of their conversations, providing him a new perspective and reassuring him yet again that he’d be with him every step of the way, another form of his unconditional love. Aman felt his body shaking as he sobbed anew at the memory. Kartik hadn’t forgotten his promise and stood by him, even today. Even though their destination wasn’t the same, Kartik was here to see him to the very end. Aman had broken his promise to him, only to entangle himself in the ties of conditional love. He was trapped and only in distancing himself from this reality and immersing himself in the distant past was Aman able to feel a semblance of freedom.</p>
<p>
  <em>Tu jugnu chamakta main jungle ghanera </em>
</p>
<p>Aman had felt like someone stabbed him with a blunt dagger, over and over. The pain was almost physical, though his father hadn’t touched a hair on his head. But the agony of seeing him take blow after blow, hear his yells was indescribable. Seeing him convulse and writhe while Aman struggled to break free, letting Kartik take the brunt of his father’s hatred, like this, it killed him. Try as he might, he couldn’t understand why. Why Kartik would do this for him, for them. Was it truly worth it? To tolerate such pain and physical brutality? It genuinely didn’t make sense. When Kartik held out his arms, that pleading expression on his face, Aman couldn’t bear the pain any longer. He ran upstairs, overwhelmed by the magnitude of Kartik’s sacrifice. He felt ashamed and scared. The former because here was this brave, <em>brave</em> man, fighting with everything he had, for them and what was he doing? Absolutely nothing. Even now, he’d turned his back. Slamming the door shut, he clamped his hands over his ears. Only a few minutes later, everything was silent from below. Aman recalled now, baring his heart to the Lord, how he felt like his heart had been ripped right out of his chest. Absolutely plundered under a jackboot. They’d done it, they’d snuffed out the last flickering light in Aman’s dark, <em>dark</em> life. They’d silenced Kartik’s spirit, silenced him. Once again, Aman felt completely, utterly lost. He’d welcomed the arrival of night time yesterday, if only to have the moon and stars as company and to become one with the endless expanse of darkness around him.</p>
<p>There was no guiding light in his life now. No light at the end of a winding tunnel, no escape from this dangerous territory. No way in hell was there a silver lining to this massive thundercloud either. Wincing at that slightly blasphemous thought, especially now, Aman pushed himself to his feet, leaning against the pillar. He just didn’t have the energy to stand completely upright, alone. Once more, he shut his eyes, hoping beyond rationality for a miracle. In all likelihood though, it wasn’t going to happen, and things would go on as they were. He’d just have to, well, deal with the consequences of his actions. At that thought, he heard Kartik’s voice in his head, earnest and full of conviction.</p>
<p>“Jo tere papa kar rahe hai, usme tere koi galti nahi hai.”</p>
<p>The words felt miles away, well out of his grasp. Still, he clung onto the memory of Kartik’s expression as he said it. He tried to believe that he wasn’t the architect of his own doom. Aman shut his eyes once more, praying for something, anything at all. Strength, a miracle? For Kartik to be alright? He just didn’t know anymore. He heard someone come to stop beside him and touch the bell. He was scared to open his eyes. He knew who it would be, the only person who knew him this well. Kartik, of course. But wouldn’t he still be unconscious, injured? Turning, he was shocked to see he was right and the expression on his face, the grip over his upper arm broke Aman’s heart once more.</p>
<p><strong>A/N:</strong> This is a poem I’d written a while ago and I think it fits here perfectly.</p>
<p>“Ab main jis mod pe khada hoon,</p>
<p>Wahaan se main kahin bhi jaun, sab bematlab hai</p>
<p>Raahi akele kya karein jab humsafar saath mein nahi?</p>
<p>Gham, khushi, yeh sab kisse baatein?</p>
<p>Ek tu hi to tha</p>
<p>Ab main akele aage jaa raha hoon lekin</p>
<p>Mera ek hissa hamesha mere peeche</p>
<p>Tere saath hi rahega”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Perilous Paths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kartik wasn't about to let go of his angel, not this easily.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Dhanya, the navigation system to my driver. Thank you :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kartik staggered over to the tap and let the cold water drench him, feeling the fight go out of him and his balance becoming worse. Summoning the last of his strength, he rose to his full height once more and said his piece, jabbing his index finger to his chest for emphasis. He hoped the point got across as exhaustion took over and he pitched forward. The last things he registered were a startled gasp from the people around him and one thought: ‘at least Aman is safe.’</p><p>The moon was high in the sky when he finally came to. His body ached and mind felt foggy, disoriented. The only thing he registered was that the courtyard was deserted, utterly devoid of life. Briefly, he considered trying to go upstairs and talking to Aman, the desperation overriding his physical agony. He faltered in his step though, knees hitting the edge of the cot as he sat down again.  Kartik shut his eyes, the vivid memory of the wooden rod coming down on him fading at the recollection of Aman’s desperate pleas for Shankar to stop. Kartik’s chest aches anew, watching Aman twist and writhe against his uncle’s tight grip. He’d been taken aback when Aman had run away but it made sense for him to have done so. He didn’t want things to come to this, not in the least. Those traitorous thoughts came crowding back, overshadowing the vision of determination and adoration he’d seen in Aman looking up at him as he delivered his little speech. This was all his fucking fault. He’d broken his own promise. He’d vowed never to let the beautiful light in Aman’s eyes dim. What had he done now, though? He’d extinguished it completely, rendering his love lifeless.</p><p>He wouldn’t stop though. Aman was practically on autopilot, his will to fight dwindling with each passing moment. Kartik couldn’t bear it. He hadn’t seen that gorgeous smile in what felt like forever and it was only in its prolonged absence that he realised how much he valued its gracing Aman’s visage. It took one winsome smile from his boyfriend to chase away the shadows that lingered in his mind after a long day at work, for instance. He didn’t know how much hope and strength he sourced from it until he needed it now, at his weakest moment. Kartik held back a wince as he lay back down, the soft material of the flag doing little to cushion the coarse, hard ropes of the cot digging into his back. Staring up at the sky was therapeutic, somehow. The company of the stars scattered across the inky expanse was comforting, though he would much rather be in Aman’s arms right now. Tomorrow was fast approaching, and he longed to spend these few moments with Aman, revel in the illusion of freedom and happiness and pointedly ignore the inevitable. Aman was only a flight of stairs away, but the distance felt infinitely greater and impossible to cross. At this thought, he felt his throat constrict and burn, so he pointedly pushed it away. Kartik shut his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the abyss of memories. In a matter of days, their world had been tipped upside down and the haven in Delhi seemed worlds away, their time together from another lifetime altogether.</p><p>His biceps felt sore and Kartik was certain there were multiple welts on his back. He could take this and more, though, if it meant that this fight would be worthwhile. He and Aman were too close to victory, to freedom to give up now. Kartik knew, somewhere deep within that this period of true hell would be worth every second if it meant a lifetime of heaven on Earth with Aman. Truly, Kartik saw him as nothing less than an angel and he deserved a whole lot more than Kartik. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, Aman continued to stand by him, and he was eternally grateful for this. He’d seen Kartik at his darkest moments and hadn’t left, like Kartik had come to expect from people. They weren’t ever sure what to do when Kartik’s walls fell away, when the bravado and confidence disappeared. Yet, Aman stayed and helped him through countless terrifying episodes and stayed when they passed. He accepted and loved Kartik for who he was and this meant the world to him. Aman was his soulmate, of this Kartik was sure. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life (well, aside from his sexuality, he supposed).</p><p>Before long, he’d fallen asleep and on instinct, was awake just before daybreak, so no one else could come and rouse him. Immobility had lessened the ache and slowly, Kartik got to his feet, wrapping the flag around him to prevent the chill of the morning air from biting him so. As quickly as he could, he made his way upstairs and changed into something a little more presentable. This was a painstaking endeavour and the muscles in his arms protested at his wide movements. All the while, he had only one thought running through his head – talk to Aman. Kartik was almost certain of the kind of headspace he would be in and so, knew exactly where to find him. He could hear the rest of the household slowly come to life and so, knew exactly where he would be. It was just as he slipped out of the courtyard that he heard Sunaina’s voice call out for Champa. Thankfully, he’d evaded them all.</p><p>As he made his way to the temple, Kartik tried to formulate his argument, his plea to Aman. Whatever he said had to work, it had to. He knew it was difficult and this last mile was the worst of all. But that was the point, that they were too close to victory to admit defeat. Now, seeing his boyfriend in that sherwani only strengthened his resolve. Aman Tripathi simply could not get married to someone else.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Playlist for "Soulmates":</p><p>Kalank (Title Track)<br/>Humdard (Ek Villain)<br/>Aaj Jaane Ki Zidd Na Karo - all by Arijit Singh</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, I wrote a 2k piece on the basis of THREE lines, what of it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>